Beware The Red Wolf
by Hunter-Of-Aliens
Summary: When Sam and Dean discover a teenager hunting on her own during the apocalypse, Sam decides she's not allowed to hunt on her own. Between avoiding angels, uncovering her past, and stopping the apocalypse, the three have their hands full. Canon compliant. Rated T for violence and canon level swearing.


A/N: Here's the first chapter of my rewrite of my story "She's Talking to Angels". I'm much more confident in this one and I like it much better and it's just better written.

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><p>The train jerked to a halt, slamming the sleeping girl from her dreams and into the seat in front of her. She stood up quickly, shouldering her backpack. Moving into the aisle, she reached for the overhead compartment where her duffle bag was stored. A delicate hand met rough canvas and the olive green bag came tumbling down. Throwing her other hand up on instinct, she caught the bag before it hit the floor. She threw it over her other shoulder after slipping the other backpack strap on. After filing out of the train car along with the other passengers. The girl walked up to the ticket window and requested directions to the least expensive motel in town. After being told that the Sky Top Motel had low rates and was only a mile away, she thanked the attendant and began her hike.<p>

Upon reaching the motel, she discovered why it had such low rates. The door was half off it's hinges and the shingles were falling off the roof. She eyed it warily but felt the small roll of bills in her pocket. She pushed the door open carefully and walked up to the desk. She rang the desk bell and waited for someone to show up.

"Hello! Anyone here?" she called after five minutes with no service. She heard some banging around behind the swinging doors in the wall behind the desk. A scrawny boy walked out, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. He had a styrofoam packing peanut stuck in one of the dark curls of his hair.

"One room, five nights please," she requested.

"What type, we have suite, two queens, one full…" the boy rattled off.

"What's cheapest?" she interrupted.

"The full, it's forty dollars a night."

"Great, I'll take that," she confirmed.

"That's two hundred dollars," he stated. The girl dug two-hundred dollar bills out of her jacket pocket and slammed them down on the desk. The boy passed over a room key and the girl thanked him before marching down the hall to her temporary home.

Most motels she stayed in were decorated gaudily, and this one was no exception. Sky print wallpaper clashed with the sweet potato orange shag rug that the seventies had forgotten to take with it, along with a sunset print bedspread. Wrinkling her nose, she dropped her bags on the bed and pulled out her laptop, which immediately connected to the wifi she had paid an extra twenty dollars for. She pulled research out of her bag and began looking through it. During recent the full moons, six students at the local high school had died after football games. With the limited information that was released, she was able to piece together that four of the six had been missing their hearts, therefore she suspected the killings were werewolf related. She scratched out notes and tacked them to the wall. She pulled out a small ball of twine and began connecting parts of the stories that overlapped.

"They were all killed at about the same time. After a home football game. There haven't been instances at away meets so it's probably a town resident or faculty at the school," she mused. Struck with sudden realization, she quickly leaned over her keyboard, searching a football schedule. There was a home game in three days. The full moon was tomorrow. She sighed and prayed the monster took no other victims before flopping down on the bed, salt lines intact around the room. Headlights shone through the thin curtains, accompanied by the purring of a well kept classic engine. Smiling at the thought of what car it could be, she fell asleep.

The next three days were spent in a library digging through tax and employment records of the faculty at the school. Half an hour before the game was about to start, she began walking to the high school. Coughing up the six dollars for admission, she sat in the corner of the bleachers, where she could clearly see anyone who left the game. The game didn't interest her, nor did the people surrounding her, though she interested them. The group of girls sitting behind her whispered about how she seemed to be at the game alone. Once the team took the field however, the mystery girl was forgotten in favor of their boyfriends on the field. As the home team won, a cheer flew up from the crowd. The girl slipped out among the celebration, apologizing to people she bumped into along the path to the exit. She chose to hide behind the equipment shed, where she had a clear view of the woods.

A symphony of shots rang out of the woods after about ten minutes. She crouched lower behind the shed before realizing that she was in no danger. At that realization, she took off running into the woods. Both hands on her gun, she ducked under pine boughs and hurdled over fallen trees. Upon seeing the light from flashlights, she burst through the trees with her gun raised and uncocked. Two men, both significantly taller than her, raised their guns at her. In the tense standoff that occurred in the moments following, she sized up her challengers. Both had at least six inches on her and were built like brick walls. They dressed in layers of clothing that looked like it had come out of a Nirvana music video. One had a military regulation haircut, while the other looked to be preparing for a movie role as a surfer. They each had a gun, small, easy to conceal pistols.

"Drop the gun," the one with the military haircut ordered. The surfer shifted his position in order to expose less of his body. The girl took a step back. She heard a low, angry growl. The branches behind her rustled and she took another step back. The surfer opened his mouth to say something but was silenced with a closed fist held up by the girl. She backed up until she could feel the creature's breath on the back of her neck, causing her hairs to stand on end. She planted one foot and spun around. Her finger tightened on the trigger. She felt four knife like claws rip open her shoulder and down her back. The bullet fired from her gun embedded itself in the monster's muscular chest. The werewolf toppled backwards, shifting back into human as he fell. The girl turned around, clutching her empty hand to her bleeding shoulder.

The two men looked at her in a mixture of suspicion and surprise. Suddenly, the surfer began to move in realization. She backed up one step for every step he took forward.

"Leave me alone," she ordered as she pressed the cuts harder.

"That needs to be looked at," he countered gesturing to her shoulder. She scoffed and told him she could fix her own problems. She turned away to walk back to the motel. The surfer followed her for a little ways.

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" she observed, "If you want to stitch it up that bad, let's get this over with." He led her back to the site of the werewolf killing. She deliberately avoided looking at the body, knowing that her stomach wouldn't take it. She allowed herself to be escorted out of the woods to the poorly paved road that ran through the middle of the forest. Standing there was the other man, with a first aid kit ready.

"We're taking her back to the motel," the surfer decided.

"Oh no, she's not getting in baby with her shoulder bleeding that badly," the man with the military cut argued. The surfer threw the shorter man a bitchface and grudgingly, the one who refused to let her get stitched up at the motel dug a clean-ish towel from the trunk. He handed it to her and she applied pressure to the wound, the towel almost immediately turned crimson.

The ride back to the motel was tense as the girl tried to avoid passing out. With encouraging words from the surfer, she made it to their motel room. The surfer pulled her jacket off and asked her if she was comfortable with her taking her t-shirt off.

"Ye-yeah, I've got a tank top on," she gasped as the t-shirt aggravated the wounds. The man cut it away gently, and applied pressure with a gauze pad. The other man began packing up all weapons and supplies in the room. The girl's wounds were cleaned with a clean rag and began to stitch the wound closed. He bandage wrapped the stitches and let the girl know he was done.

"Hey Sammy, we gonna leave tonight or in the morning," the one packing up asked.

"Wait 'til morning, I'm not up for a car ride," the surfer–Sammy–answered, "Dean, outside, can I talk to you?" The two men stepped outside the door and closed it. The girl stood up slowly and began to walk around the room, examining the objects yet to be packed. Papers tacked to the wall regarding the killings, salt lines along the doors and windows, and a bottle of holy water resting on the table.

Outside, the two men were illuminated by a flickering light.

"Sam, what are you doing? For all we know she could be a demon or a spy for the angels," Dean exclaimed.

"She's barely an adult!" Sam replied, "And she's not a demon because I washed her cuts with holy water."

"What about the angels? How do we know we aren't going to have to deal with that Zack dick again?" Dean responded.

"Would it kill you to trust someone?' Sam questioned. There was no malice in his voice, only pure curiosity. He knew Dean didn't trust easy. He had issues after Ruby, especially with anyone new. Bobby had relayed the story about his first encounter with Castiel and how Dean had jammed the demon killing knife into Castiel's chest.

"No. no!" Dean confirmed.

"Good. Then we're going to get her somewhere safe, Bobby's hopefully," Sam suggested. Dean nodded and flicked his pointer finger at Sam's chest. The two walked back into the room to see the girl examining the demon killing knife Sm had left on his nightstand.

"What is this thing?" she asked as she ran her finger over the runes carved into the blade. Dean walked up and snatched it out of her hands.

"It's a demon killing knife," he explained as he stuck it in his back pocket. The girl began to laugh before stopping due to a shot of pain from the cuts.

"You can't kill a demon, only exorcise them!" she exclaimed, "Right?"

"Not true at all, and right now, you're getting out of hunting for a while to do some of the behind the scenes work," Dean explained.

"And why would I do that?" she asked.

"Because, you're too young to be hunting on your own and you're reckless," Sam stated.

"And why do you get to decide my future?" she questioned.

"Because if you keep using yourself as werewolf bait you won't have a future," Dean explained.

"Where am I going?" she asked. Sam told her about Bobby's house and what the old hunter did.

"Sounds boring, I'll keep doing field work," the girl replied and walked toward the door.

"If you're that insistent, you're not doing it alone," Sam stated as he stepped in her path.

"Sam we're not doing this," Dean argued.

"Bobby or us, its your choice," Sam directed at the girl.

"Fine, I'll go with you. Just drop me off at the Sky Top Motel, I need to get my stuff," the girl decided with a huff.

"We're here. You've got fifteen minutes to be out in the lobby and ready to go," Dean ordered as the girl left the room.

"Are you nuts Sam? We're in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse and you want to start baby sitting?" Dean snapped. Sam looked at him in shock and began to start packing up the remainder of their stuff.

"Dean she's inexperienced and you saw her, she was moving _towards_ the werewolf," Sam replied.

"So a lot of hunters do that kind of stuff," Dean responded.

"I don't think she's of drinking age yet," Sam stated. Dean froze for a second.

"Do you think she grew up in the life?" Dean questioned.

"I don't think so. If she had, she wouldn't be hunting solo," Sam observed as he powered off his laptop and put it in his backpack. The brothers did a final sweep of the room, making sure nothing was left behind and then swept the salt out the door. They walked into the lobby to find the girl waiting at the desk with a bulky sweatshirt covering her bandages and her bags on the floor at her feet along with her shredded jacket.

"Brianna Wilson checking out," she told the clerk once he finally showed up. They talked briefly over her getting her payment back because she was leaving early. She finally got forty dollars back, thanked the clerk and threw her bags over her good shoulder and held her jacket.

After checking out themselves, Sam and Dean led Brianna to the car. Her eyes widened in shock at seeing the car for the first time when she wasn't concentrated on staying conscious. She drank in the view of the classic car as if she was afraid it would disappear. Dean told her to hurry up so she threw her duffle in the backseat and then slid in after it. As Dean started the car, she asked where they were going. Dean told her they were on their way to Bobby's when Sam's phone rang. After a brief conversation Sam told Dean about how Bobby had found a possible case. Bear chased a guy through his house, apparently it was worth investigating.

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><p>AN: Hope you liked it, tell me you opinion in the comments


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